


Spliced

by tonytonesphoneroo5000



Category: Splice (2009)
Genre: Angst, Medical Experimentation, Pregnancy, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-01
Updated: 2019-07-01
Packaged: 2020-05-31 14:27:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19427833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonytonesphoneroo5000/pseuds/tonytonesphoneroo5000
Summary: Elsa lies in the snow, hoping to die. The heat leaks from her fingers, her toes. Her breath slows. For some time, Dren whimpers. Longer than she thought he would. She can’t bring herself to look at him.





	Spliced

**Author's Note:**

> hm...wrote this several months ago, and wasn't sure if i should post it. it's just that the movie ended on SUCH an unfinished note, and i really liked it, and this seemed the logical next step for the story to go to considering the horrifying note it ended on. it's not my usual fluffy fare, and it does NOT have a happy ending, so be aware of that.

Elsa lies in the snow, hoping to die. The heat leaks from her fingers, her toes. Her breath slows. For some time, Dren whimpers. Longer than she thought he would. She can’t bring herself to look at him. 

When he’s finally quiet, and she isn’t dead yet, Elsa forces herself up, pulling the tattered remains of her coat around herself. She gives up on trying to fit her pants together. Dren had...Dren had pulled her underwear to her ankle while he held her legs open. 

Elsa gets to unstable, wobbling knees and pulls them up. On autopilot, she gingerly touches herself...down there, finding, to her surprise, no blood. Just soreness and a feeling of being raw. She’s wet. She’d felt Dren finish, felt the gush of fluids, but she refuses to think about it. 

She needs clothes. Clive won’t be using his anymore. Elsa strips him of coat and pants, hitching them up around her waist. She touches his face once, tenderly. Then she remembers what he did with Dren, how it led to all this, and curls her fist. Couldn’t keep his dick in his pants. 

Elsa is half-afraid Dren will rise from the dead again and come back for more. “Inside you,” he had said with single-minded purpose. She can’t handle another assault. Dren doesn’t move, or hunt her through the woods again. She leaves him and Clive together in the snow. 

* * *

Barlow’s body is still in the tree when she passes by. Her earlier jubilance over synthesizing the protein from Dren’s venom seems foolish now. Was it worth it? The brief excitement, the creation of new life...Elsa shudders, presses her hand between her legs. She feels disgusting, but can’t bring herself to go back inside the farmhouse where all the worst events of her life happened. 

Instead, she gets in her truck, drives home in the dark, sits in the shower for hours. Her body doesn’t feel like hers anymore. What’s the use of it? Anyone can take it from her. There are dark purpling bruises on her wrists, the inside of her thighs.

Elsa had stopped fighting after the first...thrust, too shocked to move, and wonders if she should be ashamed for that. She already has so much to be ashamed of. Creating Dren in the first place, treating him as an experiment, removing his stinger, what came after...She thinks of running in the snow, falling to her knees. Dren’s claws tearing through her clothing, Dren over her, in her; she screams into her closed fists and washes every part of her body again. His touch still lingers. 

* * *

Someone must eventually go looking for Gavin, for Barlow, for Clive. N.E.R.D. surely did. She vaguely remembers Clive mentioning having more family somewhere. If Clive hadn’t insisted on chasing after his brother, who was dead the moment Dren lifted him from the ground, maybe the attack wouldn’t have happened.

She thinks of Clive’s ecstatic face, his cock buried in Dren, grinding wetly together, and feels a hot flash of resentment. Clive felt only pleasure, and then he was allowed to die. Elsa had to...She had to lie there, and take it, the degradation, the wetness inside her. And now she has to live on. She doesn’t find the bottle of sleeping pills on her nightstand tempting enough.

She doesn’t find anything tempting, just lives day in day out eating, sleeping, staring blankly at the TV. No one from N.E.R.D. comes to visit, to arrest her. Elsa can’t make herself go back to check for the bodies. She spends time existing instead, her money slowly dwindling.

* * *

When Elsa skips her first period, she doesn’t think anything of it. Trauma has that effect on a woman’s cycle. Then she skips the next period. And the next. She can’t deny her breasts are heavier, waist thickening. She’s pregnant. She stands in the mirror, touching the small swell of her belly, and tells herself it’s Clive’s. Of course it’s Clive’s. Of course. There’s no...There’s no other options that she can handle. Nevermind that her last period was shortly after the last time they had sex. She refuses to consider anything else. 

* * *

N.E.R.D. must be keeping tabs on her after all, because they show up six months into the pregnancy, when Elsa has no choice but to keep it. What would come out if she got an abortion? Nothing. _Nothing_ , of course. The baby is Clive’s. 

N.E.R.D. had seemed so harmless at first; she and Clive had laughed at the goofy, self-aware name. They had taken too long to see the predator hiding behind the friendly face. Joan herself comes to Elsa’s door. Elsa, her hair lank, belly bulging, stares blankly at her for a moment before stepping aside. It’s not her apartment; it’s Clive’s, draining the last of his bank account. In two weeks, she’ll be out on the street. She had thought it couldn’t get worse. It always can.

“Elsa,” Joan says warmly, embracing her. 

Elsa’s hands remain at her side. “What are you doing here?” she asks when released. No point bothering with pleasantries. Everything Joan does has a reason behind it. Presumably she’s here to offer Elsa a fat check for her silence over the whole affair. This isn’t a problem, as Elsa doesn’t like thinking of it even in her own head. Speaking it aloud feels impossible. Joan’s smile is kind. Joan always seems kind. It’s how she wins. 

“You’re pregnant,” Joan says, sitting at the dining table. She looks around the cluttered apartment without judgment.

“It’s Clive’s,” Elsa returns, putting a hand on her stomach. The baby has begun kicking. It’s strange to watch her body change, make room. 

“We know it’s not Clive’s. He was sterile.” Of course, they’ll have all his medical records. They’ll have been watching her from the beginning, watching this _thing_ grow inside her. Despite herself, Elsa still feels protective. She’s created this child. Doesn’t matter who helped. 

“I don’t...It was…” Shaky panic flutters in her throat. How does she explain that night? They’ll have found the bodies, know some of what she was made to do.

Joan waves her stuttering aside. “Something happened to you out there. We don’t need to know what. We just want the result of it.” Elsa hesitates. Joan continues smoothly, “You will, of course, be richly compensated.” 

Elsa needs the money. She has nothing left. The only thing worse than this would be to be out on the street. “You’re not going to hurt it, right?”

“Of course not,” Joan says. Her smile is wide and kind. “We won’t hurt your child at all.” 

* * *

The next three months are a blur of tests, of being kept in rooms off labs with her every bodily function monitored. Her stomach continues to grow, to a size she considers grotesque, but the doctor given especially to Elsa assures her it’s normal. The whole pregnancy is normal, surprisingly so. Apparently, it’s the easiest pregnancy many of her doctors have seen. They eye her like meat, hungry for new secrets. Elsa doesn’t mind having her blood drawn, her cheek swabbed. Less so being laid out on a gynecologist’s table, bringing back unpleasant memories. Thoughts of the money get her through.

* * *

They send in a shrink who looks twelve years old, shoving his glasses up his nose. Fixated on her stomach. “Joan thought you could benefit from some conversation, before. Um. Before.” 

Elsa feels suddenly bitter, snarls, “What’s there to talk about? He held me down and raped me.” The word feels slimy on her tongue, drooling down her throat. 

“Um. Yes. He had a biological need to procreate.” 

“I _raised_ him.” It’s the first time she’s said anything about it; she runs to the trash to throw up for the first time during her pregnancy. The shrink lets himself out.

* * *

The actual birth is just as easy as her pregnancy; quick, almost painless. Elsa is waited on by a team of highly-trained doctors who prove mostly useless in the end. Elsa’s never bothered to learn their names. Some of them had speculated that she wouldn’t be able to carry the baby to term, that their DNA would be too incompatible to produce a viable pregnancy, the baby dead in her womb. They’d used scientific jargon, but Elsa is a scientist herself, something they seem to forget. Anyhow, she’s just a mother like so many others before her, pushing and straining. 

The child that comes out of her is almost perfect-bloody, red, like any newborn. She had been having nightmares of the leech thing that used to be Dren. Squealing and twisting and totally alien, squirming inside her. But the child is normal. Mostly. There’s no doubt of its parentage anymore; it has Dren’s long, whippy tail and unsettling eyes. It doesn’t cry, just chirps. It’s a girl. Elsa can’t believe it was inside her, feels an uncomfortable mix of tenderness and revulsion. 

All things considered, Dren wasn’t really her child. But this...she carried this child inside her for nine months. Still, she doesn’t protest as it’s taken away. What if it becomes what Dren did? 

“Looks just like its father,” one of the doctors murmurs, thinking she can’t hear. 

“Shut up,” Elsa hisses. They ignore her. Joan comes in when Elsa has been as cleaned up as possible. She looks with unsettling interest at Elsa’s splayed legs, the pads underneath her to catch any remaining fluids. Elsa blows a strand of sweaty hair from her face and holds Joan’s eyes. 

Joan smiles. “You’ve been very helpful.” She puts a comforting hand on Elsa’s shoulder, squeezing once. “We are so thankful for… _all_ of your sacrifices.” Elsa doesn’t bother to consider this statement. Exhausted, she falls asleep. 

* * *

She doesn’t think to be concerned, some weeks later, when Joan reports that Elsa has been declared dead, killed in the “horrific farm accident” that killed Clive, Gavin, and Barlow as well. “It will be easier for you that way. A fresh start. A new life.” Elsa, recovering from the birth, still numb inside, nods her head. She doesn’t consider that Joan is now the only person who knows that Elsa Kast is alive. 

* * *

She doesn’t think to be concerned when one of the nameless scientists leads her out of her room for more testing.There have been dozens of tests. They walk through the halls together, past sterile white walls and people who avoid eye contact with her. That’s normal. No one knows what to do in front of Elsa’s blank face. 

She’s lead into a room like any of the others she’s been in. Hospital bed, stainless steel sink, mysterious cabinets. Normal. “Please disrobe and wait here,” she’s told. By now, Elsa is used to obeying orders, slips her hospital gown over her head and waits patiently. She doesn’t bother thinking about the mirrored window at one end of the room; she’s been observed before. At first, it was uncomfortable to be aware of hidden eyes. Now, it’s normal. 

She lays herself down on the hospital bed, rests her arms on the railings. It’ll be over in a couple minutes, and Elsa can go back to watching bad TV in the spare, windowless room alloted to her. The thought, like most thoughts, doesn’t excite her. She doesn’t bother being scared until she hears the sound of moving flesh that’s not quite human, a rustle of wings. 

She turns with slow horror, already knowing. Dren hangs from an open panel in the ceiling, grinning at her. There’s a scar where she beat his head in, mottled purple against his white skin. He cries out a guttural sound, pointed tongue rolling, and flips to the ground. Elsa can’t speak. He stands to his full, imposing height. She remembers Dren as being so small, before. So easily hurt and forced to do whatever they wanted. Now it’s Elsa’s turn.

“We discovered many excellent proteins in your offspring,” Joan says over a microphone. Elsa looks wildly around, scrambles off the bed and falls, skittering back til she’s pressed against the door. It’s been locked from outside. Dren advances with slow steps, head cocked in that curious way she used to find charming. He knows he has time. “I’m talking millions of dollars. Unfortunately, in an attempt to make more, we learned that other women are...biologically incompatible. You are the only viable host.” Dren puts a hand on her knee, claws leaving red marks on the skin of her thighs.

“You...You promised not to hurt me.”

Joan sighs, annoyed. “No, dear. I promised not to harm your child. And she’s perfectly safe. They’ll _all_ be perfectly safe.” Elsa can’t move. She fought last time. It didn’t help. Dren has something more than base instinct in his eyes; he has hatred. Elsa created him, raised him, maimed him, killed him…had his child. 

She lets out a shuddering sob as the tip of his stinger brushes over her cheek, and pets a hand down his hard, spiny back. If she’s kind enough, if she’s soft enough, maybe he won’t hurt her too badly. “P-Please, please…” 

He just smiles. “Ripe,” he growls out, and Elsa thinks of the pictures she found back in the farm, of her face. It had been touching at the time. She had cried. Now she’s crying for different reasons, scratching weakly at Dren’s forearms as they push her legs open. He crawls between them, letting out a soft sound against her cheek, licking off one of her tears. “Inside you.”

New words. He’s capable of learning. If they had bothered treating him like a person, would this have happened? Would Elsa still be lying here, helpless, as Dren gleefully shoves himself inside her? She’ll never know. Dren curls a hand around her hip and pulls her closer, to something that seems inevitable now. Elsa doesn’t bother fighting.

**Author's Note:**

> also, kind of a huge fan of how the movie started with elsa having dren inside her and screaming, and ended the same way


End file.
